


Tipped With Longing

by khazadspoon



Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M, Multi, Vane Lives!AU, an excuse for ot3 existence, i miss him, ignoring canon s4 because i wanted to bring charles back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khazadspoon/pseuds/khazadspoon
Summary: It isn’t hard to take the Plantation. A few decent fully armed, some large and terrifying to the eye, the threat of their names, Captains Vane and Flint working together, and the guards part like reeds.Flint is distracted the whole time they move through the Plantation’s building.Suddenly Charles understood.





	Tipped With Longing

**Author's Note:**

> so i made a charlesLIVES!au because why not
> 
> miranda's house is not burned down, eleanor is alive, silver didn't leave thomas in the plantation because thats a mean thing to do  
> i have no excuse for this beyond self indulgence

It isn’t hard to take the Plantation. A few decent fully armed, some large and terrifying to the eye, the threat of their names, Captains Vane and Flint working together, and the guards part like reeds. Charles is partly grateful that there isn’t a fight, but partly craves it. It would be good, he thought, to fight out some of the nervous energy in his blood. 

Flint is distracted the whole time they move through the Plantation’s building. He checked every room himself, corner to corner, looking for _something_  without explaining what. Charles watched, trying to figure out what it might be.

Then they step out into the harsh sunlight where the field hands had gathered having heard the commotion from the front of the property. Black men and women, white men, all dressed the same and wearing the same expressions of fear and confusion. One of them, a tall white man with the bearing of one of the bastards from England, stepped forward. Flint, at Charles’ side, pushed forward. 

He watched as Flint walked towards the tall man. He watched as they recognised one another. He had thought, after returning to tell Flint of this ‘Hamilton’ fellow, that they had been friends or relatives before Flint became _Flint_. 

As the two men reached for one another and wept, as their foreheads touched and the tall man cradled Flint’s face, Charles thought he was wrong. When they kissed, tender and soft and everything his kisses with Eleanor had not been, he _knew_ he was wrong. That wasn’t an old friend, not an old conquest, that was an old lover kept in the heart for years. 

This, _this_ was the person Flint had started the war with England for. 

Suddenly Charles understood. 

The two men stood embracing one another for a few minutes as Charles set to collecting valuables from the main buildings. He let the men and women know that they were free now, to stay or go as they chose, with no danger from the pirates who had liberated them. A few chose to stay with the pirates and become part of their crews, three of them women. Charles thought of Anne and accepted them without hesitation. 

When Flint let his lover go he seemed reluctant to leave his side. Charles walked to them. 

“We’ll need to be gone soon. No chance the main town won’t have gotten wind of us and’ll be here any moment,” he reminded the other captain. “I assume he’s coming?” He jerked his head to Lord Hamilton and watched Flint’s face go through several erratic emotions in just a few seconds. 

“I’m coming, yes,” the tall man said. “And I have a name.” He gave Charles a stern look, one that spoke of a deep hardness and steel that did not come from his lineage but from lessons learned from harsh treatment. Charles respected that. 

“Thomas Hamilton,” Charles said, nodding. “I’m Charles, Charles Vane.”

Thomas shook his hand, accepting the non-apology for what it was. 

Flint hadn’t let go of Thomas’ sleeve the whole time, his whole body sagging as though he had lost the use of his bones. Charles gestured to the out building to their left. “Go sit down. I’ll handle the distribution of goods. We’ve got a few volunteers to help out. Get a drink, we’ll be moving soon.”

He walked away, flexing his fingers where Hamilton had shook his hand. Images of their kiss filtered through his mind; that gentleness they shared, how Flint had seemed to become something _more_ when he had seen Thomas… Charles had loved Eleanor, he knew that, but he started to think there was something he had gotten very wrong. Love wasn’t supposed to be fighting and fucking, arguing until all there was left to do was kiss the other to shut them up. It was supposed to be joy and light, like what he had seen on Thomas’ face when he had recognised Flint. 

Charles thought he might be jealous. He’d felt that way before, when he thought that perhaps Eleanor loved Flint, before he knew it was a paternal love and not desire. He’d felt it when someone had tried to get close to Teach and usurp his place. 

He looked back over his shoulder, eyes roaming over the long legs under white breeches and imagined how Flint must look laying between them. Were they gentle in bed, as they were in that moment? Did they fuck slow, like they had all the time in the world? Did Thomas have as much control over Flint’s body as he had over his soul? 

Charles tore his eyes away. _I need a fight or a fuck,_ he thought to himself. 

Thomas and Flint stayed close when they went back to the _Walrus_. They didn’t share a horse, at least, but when they weren’t on horseback they were touching constantly. Flint had a hand on Thomas’ back, his arm, his knee. Thomas touched Flint’s cheek, his neck, clasped his hand. They would stop and stare at one another and Charles pretended not to see the fresh tracks of shining tears on their cheeks when they did. On the _Walrus_  they disappeared into Flint’s cabin until nightfall, and even then Flint only emerged to get food and water. 

Charles tried not to think of how their reunion must have gone. He tried to ignore the images in his mind. He had never fucked a man, not willingly or by force. He had never desired it nor condemned it. Men loved men as men loved women, they fucked and fought and laughed together as anyone. But as he thought of Thomas, tall and picturesque in the sun as he kissed Flint, there was a tightening in his gut. 

It was new, and it was… odd. 

He sat up on the deck as the ship rode through the calm waters, trying to sort his thoughts into a manageable state when a figure stood over him. 

“Thank you,” Flint said in a hoarse voice. Charles look up, shrugged his shoulders, and took in the sight of Flint’s white shirt, the mark on his neck visible and the red on his eyes obvious. He’d been weeping again, weeping and fucking. Charles shivered.  

“Nothing to thank me for,” he murmured, looking back out to see. 

Flint sat down, one leg bent and the other stretched out and Charles watched the elegant curve of his neck in a new light. He wanted to touch, taste, and he didn’t quite know why. Flint had always commanded attention. He was someone you  _had_ to look at, to take notice of, no matter the situation and Charles was just as susceptible to that as anyone.

“You told me he was there,” Flint continued, “you gave me the chance to see him, to _save_ him. It’s because of you I’m whole again. Or as whole as I can be without her…”

“Your sea witch?” Charles huffed. “Women are more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Miranda wasn’t. She was a great woman. You’d have known that if you’d met her,” Flint managed a small smile and Charles was tempted to believe him. “But _Thomas_ -” he swallowed and looked Charles in the eye. “He knows what I’ve done. Charles Town, Peter Ashe, the _Maria Aleyne_ , all the lives I’ve taken and harm I’ve caused… and he _still_ loves me. He wanted to thank you himself but I insisted he rest. So, I’m thanking you instead.”

Flint leveled him with a look of such _gratitude_ that Charles almost balked. Flint put a hand on his shoulder and it was hot, heavy, Charles flicked his eyes over Flint’s face and frowned to himself. _Hell of a time to start lusting after someone,_  he berated himself, _just when he’s found the love of his life. Great timing._  

He quirked his lips up, giving Flint a small smile, before shrugging the hand off his shoulder. “Nothing to thank me for,” he repeated. “If he means that much to you he must be worth saving. Can’t say I don’t understand it, either.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Flint shuffling to cross his legs and fiddle with the sleeve of his shirt. Ridiculously long sleeves, Charles thought, no wonder nobles didn’t fight. They’d trip and hurt themselves. But then again, they had a certain charm. 

Flint bumped their shoulders together as the ship rocked and Charles moved with him, comfort rolling over him at the simple contact. There wasn’t much chance for softness in their profession, and after Eleanor had left him… He hadn’t had much in the way of softness since then anyway, not that Eleanor had ever been soft with him, nor him with her. 

A moment later Flint stood and dusted his knees. Flint nodded to him, he nodded back, and Charles watched as he walked back to the cabin where his lover awaited him, no doubt naked and yearning for him. 

That sting of jealousy again, though all the sharper for the longing that tipped it. 

\---

A day from Nassau saw him looking out in the direction of the island with a cheroot lit between his lips. The wind was low, slowing their journey, but it meant that he could sit on deck without being blown about too much. 

He considered the last few days quietly; Flint had stayed mostly out of sight, in his cabin with his lover, only coming out to talk to his crew and see what had been happening in his absence. He talked to Vane about their shares and little else. Charles had agreed on an even split, equal shares per man including the captains, with the only exception being Thomas and the men and women who had joined the account. They kept their things and took a share. 

Deep in thought he didn’t realise a shadow had fallen over him. 

“Captain Vane,” said a low, sure voice. Looking up Charles saw Thomas. He hadn’t been on deck since stepping foot on the _Walrus_ , either because he hadn’t wanted to or because Flint had told him not to. Charles thought it was probably the former. Thomas looked uneasy and pale, grasping the rail with a grip that turned his knuckles white. “May I join you?”

Charles tipped his head, holding out a hand to steady the man as he sat down. He offered the cheroot and watched in surprise as Thomas took it, took a deep drag and exhaled expertly. Thomas’ fingers were warm but shaking slightly when he passed it back. 

“I wanted to say thank you in person,” Thomas continued after a moment. “For doing what you did, and doing so without unnecessary bloodshed. You aren’t as merciless as your reputation suggests.”

Charles huffed, blew smoke from his nose, and leveled Thomas with a sharp stare. “Any other plantation and I’d have killed every guard or owner with my own hands.”

He saw Thomas’ gaze travel over his face, the breadth of his shoulders and the darkened skin of his bare chest. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had. Any other plantation and I would have joined you.”

There was a sharpness in his voice and Charles felt another jolt of appreciation flash through him. “You don’t despise bloodshed then?”

“Not when it is against those who are deserving, no.”

They fell into silence and passed the cheroot between them as the sun rose to its zenith. Every so often he caught Thomas watching him, assessing him. He said nothing and waited for the topic obviously eating at the man’s brain to reveal itself. 

“You and James- Captain _Flint_ , you are not strictly allies are you?” He asked after that silence. Charles shook his head. “And yet you help him, you brought him to me. Why is that?”

“It was the right thing to do,” Charles mumbled in reply, not meeting Thomas’ eyes. There was too much in those eyes, he didn’t want to be caught in their trap. 

“Don’t lie to a former politician, Captain, you’ll find I’m not so easily deceived!” Thomas smirked and touched his knee, the smirk deepening the shadows around his eyes and plush lips. “Tell me. I’m the only one who’ll hear.”

He thought for a moment. Why reveal himself? Why let this near stranger into his head, let him know Charles’ motivations? He thought of Jack and his need to be known and struggled with the need for something similar. To be recognised for who he was, not what the stories said. To be known how _he_ wished to be known… Even if just by one person. That might be good. 

“When I mentioned your name to Flint he… he looked _alive_ again. He didn’t believe me at first but when I didn’t back down he suddenly became more like he was when we first met. After the Barlow woman died he became cruel, unforgiving, spoke little and killed more. He was hollow. After knowing _you_ were alive, he reverted back to his former self. I hated him before, still not overly fond of the bastard, but anything is better than the shell of a man he was after Charles Town.”

He look a breath, flicked the stub of cheroot overboard, and tipped his head back to look at Thomas. There were tears in his bright eyes and the smirk was gone. 

“We’re brothers in arms, no matter how I feel about him.”

Thomas looked at Charles as though he had pulled a fortune of gold and gems from his pocket. “I can see why men would follow you,” he murmured. He put a hand on Charles’ bare shoulder and ran his thumb over the skin, catching the edges of the brand on his chest. Charles fought the shiver that threatened to run through him as that thumb, as those piercing eyes, made his core shake. “And again; thank you.”

In a moment of what must have been madness, Charles leaned into Thomas’ warm hand and shut his eyes, suddenly exhausted. It had been _so long_ since someone had touched him… The press of lips on his cheek shocked him, soft and lingering, making his eyes fly open. 

Thomas stood quickly, hand drawing back slowly as Charles struggled to understand what had just happened. 

Charles watched as Thomas left his side to join Flint at the helm. His eyes caught Flint’s, holding his gaze. There was no jealousy or anger on his face, only understanding. Charles was confused. His lover had just sat and kissed Charles’ cheek, why would he just stand and watch? But Flint did nothing. He nodded, put an arm around Thomas’ waist, and the two began to talk softly. 

Vane touched his cheek, rubbing at the place Thomas’ lips had touched. Something warm and comfortable unfurled in his belly as he watched the two men at the helm press their foreheads together. 

It wasn't jealously. It wasn't distaste or disdain. It was... satisfaction, maybe. Whatever it was, he let it wash over him as Flint kissed his lover in full view of the skeleton crew managing the  _Walrus_. No one spared a second glance. They'd all sailed with men who loved men before. No doubt they all would again, after this. A chance to see two men happy together like that in their day and age was uncommon. 

"First time I've seen him smile properly," a voice said beside him. Dooley, he thinks the man is called. "Never seen him happy before, not really. Shame."

Charles hummed, not looking up. 

"Think he'll retire now?" Dooley asked. 

"Depends," he replied. "If his lover wants it, he will. No way he'd go against Thomas' wishes. But if not... Well. He's as much a part of the sea as we are, can't see him settling down in a cottage by a forest, can you?" Dooley laughed. He went away, doing his duty aboard the ship, and Charles turned to the ocean. 

He'd have to ask Flint that question himself.

\---

Thomas' eyes were full of wonder and surprise when they got to Nassau. Flint was watching him with a suppressed smirk, showing off the place he had called home for the last ten years and Vane followed them inland with a hand on his belt. The gun there was a pleasant and reassuring weight as well as a warning to anyone that would try to come near. 

Not that many tried to approach Captain Flint, not after Charles Town and the victories he had won since. 

They moved further inland, grabbing fresh food and water on the way, and Thomas was almost bouncing with excitement as he saw the locals thriving. Flint kept a hand on his back, steering him gently through crowds and clearly trying not to laugh at the man's enthusiasm. 

As town turned to road, and road became track, the group of pirates became just the three of them. Charles hung back and let the two men in front of him talk quietly between themselves. He bit into an apple and felt the juice dribble down his chin just as Thomas turned to look back at him. The bright grey-blue eyes watched the droplet fall and Charles tried to ignore how Thomas licked his lips. He took another bite and wiped his chin. Thomas turned away and moved ever so slightly closer to Flint. 

They reached the Barlow woman's house just before dark. Flint opened the front door and sagged as he walked inside, Thomas at his side as he moved to sit at one of the chairs still left at the table. "We lived here, Miranda and I," he said softly, taking Thomas' hand, "for ten years. She grew vegetables in the garden. You'd have loved it; there was always the smell of perfume and food..."

"Perhaps... Perhaps you'd like to stay?" Thomas asked him softly. "All we need do is tidy up and rekindle the garden." 

Charles hung back in the doorway, letting the two of them talk for a moment. 

"It'll be dark soon. Wind's already getting cold," he interrupted after a few moments silence. "I'll start the fire."

Flint followed him outside and round the back of the small house. As he picked up a few logs Flint fixed him with a sharp stare. "Why are you here?" He asked, not coldly or unkindly, but unsettled. 

"Got no where else to go while I'm here. Not right now. Here's as good as anywhere else," he replied. Flint snorted, shaking his head. 

"In London, not long after I'd first met Thomas, someone called 'indescribable'. He speaks and people listen, he looks at you and... you feel  _lighter_ somehow. As though just being  _near_ him is enough to release you from the past;" Flint paused. His gaze softened. "You're feeling some of that now."

Charles dropped the logs, crossed his arms and glared. "I'm not feeling anything."

"Then why are you  _here_ _?_ "

He frowned, at a loss. Why  _was_ he there? Why had he followed them to this place? He shook his head and picked the logs up, ignoring Flint's half frown. 

"You're allowed to want things. You're allowed to  _enjoy_ being near people," Flint said at last, putting a warm hand on Charles' arm. It made him shiver. There was no true friendship between them, not really, but there was  _something_ there. A trust, a bond forged in gunfire and blood. Vane admired Flint's tenacity, his single mindedness and his fierce protectiveness. Damn, he  _liked_ the man's sense of humour. He secretly hoped Flint felt that way, too.  

He didn't want to admit to enjoying the man's company, though. 

Flint's hand stayed longer than it needed to. His fingers clasped tight at Vane's arm, the man's eyes hard as they kept locked on his own. "I know-" Flint licked his lips, pausing, and Charles tried and failed not to look. "I know you have given up a lot to help me," he continued. "And I want you to know I appreciate that. I appreciate  _you_. No matter what happens to me, whether I stay a captain or not, I want you to know you will always be welcome where I am."

Charles swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He saw Flint's eyes dart to his neck and back, saw the slight widening of his pupils and felt heat form in his gut. 

"James?" Thomas called from the doorway, his voice breaking the moment. Charles breathed a sigh of relief, adjusting the logs in his arms and heading back inside. He brushed past Thomas and ignored the warmth coming from his body. 

He busied himself with lighting the fire. It was a mindless task, one he had done countless times before. He ignored the sounds of Thomas and Flint murmuring softly to one another, ignored the soft sound of kisses and sighs. There  _was_ jealousy in his stomach, bitter and stinging, but he pushed it down and watched the flames come to life. 

They ate quietly beside the fire, not bothering with the table. Flint sat almost in Thomas' lap, the two of them touching from hip to shoulder with Charles opposite them. Thomas' knee touched Charles' and he wanted to put a hand on it, to touch and feel what it must be like to touch a  _Lord_. Not a current one, sure, but a lord nonetheless. He also just wanted to touch Thomas; a man who had survived an asylum and a prison, a man who was bright and intelligent and unashamed of who he was or who he loves. 

He wondered if Eleanor had been ashamed of him. The thought stung less than it might have before, and he let it float away with barely a second thought. 

When the two other men drifted off to one of the bedrooms Charles stayed near the fire. He heard the creak of the wood floor, soft conversation, a softer moan. Charles' blood went hot, cold, his heart started to hammer as he heard gasps come from down the hall.

A sharp curse followed by another moan, louder this time. He heard the groan of a bed adjusting to weight and felt his body stand. His feet moved silently across the floor, taking him down the hall to the half open door of the bedroom. It was almost as though he were dreaming as his eyes peered into the gloom behind that door. 

There was a stream of moonlight coming through the shutter-less window. It illuminated the figures on the bed. Thomas' hair glowed silver in the moonlight, his head moving steadily down Flint's body as the pirate moaned under his breath. Hands were tangled in that shining hair and Charles felt himself shiver. He watched as the two men on the bed, naked as babes, moved against one another. Thomas moved back up Flint's body and kissed him, harsh and filthy and Vane saw how Flint's body arched against him in the dark. He saw Thomas' hand move between them, grasping at Flint's cock and his own, stroking them together until Flint was gasping and writhing beneath him. 

Charles stumbled back, suddenly realising what he was  _doing_. His cock was hard in his pants, pressing almost painfully against the fastenings and he pressed the heel of his palm  _hard_ against it, trying to dampen the arousal with pain. It didn't work, never had. He stomped to a spare room, throwing himself down on bags of what could have been linen or feathers. He closed his eyes and tried to push the images of Flint from his mind, tried to ignore his own throbbing cock as it begged for attention. 

He  _wanted_ them. What he had seen was burned into his mind. Flint,  _James_ , open and wanting, moaning and grasping at his lover. Thomas' strong body, so pale in the moonlight as he touched James and moaned against his lips. He saw the two of them in his mind as they came together, the sound of it drifting down the hall. Thomas' lower moan, long and trembling, joined by James' fast pants as they reached their peaks together. Charles rubbed at his cock through his pants and shivered, wondering if Thomas' hands were as big as they seemed, if Flint could bite with his teeth as much as with his words. What would it be like, he thought, to be caught between the two of them? Probably too much to handle. 

But he wanted to handle it. He imagined himself pushing Flint against the wall, tasting that caustic mouth and  _finally_ getting him to do something Vane's way. He saw Thomas behind him, directing him, whispering into his ear as those hands that had been made rough with labour drifted down his body. 

He pushed his pants down, grabbing his cock and tugging almost painfully as the images rolled through his mind. He came with a barely stifled shout and a shiver, coming in thick ropes over his stomach and hand. As his breath evened out he wiped his hand on his shirt, discarding it across the room with a hard throw, mind whirling even as tiredness set in. 

He fell asleep moments later, tired down to his bones. 

\---

There was a blanket draped over him in the morning. It smelled like flowers. His neck ached, his back too, and he tugged the blanket higher and tighter around his shoulders to try and fight off the need to get up and stretch his sore muscles. When he turned onto his side a harsh groan game from his throat. 

A moment later there was a knock at the open door. 

"There's food on the table, Captain;" Thomas' voice was light, relaxed and amused as Charles ducked his head under the blanket and threw up a finger in his general direction. "Suit yourself... James is in the garden, he decided he needed to discard of some of the weeds. It would be awfully rude to leave me alone in a strange place, don't you think?"

Blaming the lack of sleep and the general fog in his mind, Charles reached out and took hold of Thomas' hand. He peaked out from under the cover and looked at the long fingers, traced his thumb over callouses formed over years of hard work. His eyes took in the tan that ended at Thomas' wrist, how it contrasted with Charles' own dark skin. In his mind he saw that hand wrapped around Flint's cock. He saw the man's flushed skin illuminated by moonlight and felt his heartbeat get faster. 

Thomas slowly drew his hand away, fingers curling as if to prevent himself from doing so. 

"Food first," he said softly, as though anticipating that Charles  _wanted_ something. That it was something he would happily give. 

He stayed under the blanket after Thomas had left the room. He took a deep breath, quelling the surge of need and desire that flowed through him. It wouldn't do to take advantage of whatever hospitality Flint was offering him in this place, after all. But after a few minutes of breathing in the scent of perfume and hearing the sound of the door drew him out. He padded slowly, quietly, to the kitchen.

When he rounded the corner he was hit with another wave of want. 

Flint was pressed against the wall of the kitchen, his hand tangled in Thomas' hair as Thomas whispered  _something_ into his ear, something that made Flint's lips part in a silent moan. They hadn't noticed him, were too caught up in one another to notice anything bar a Spanish armada crashing through the wall. Thomas' voice drifted to his ears, his voice gravelly and harsh as he spoke

" _And what of him? Of your fellow captain,"_ Thomas said. Charles stopped, his heart thumping in his chest. " _Would you let him? If I asked, would you?"_

Flint nodded, his eyes opening and catching Vane's own. The breath seemed to stop in his lungs as Flint's eyes widened, his hand tightening on Thomas' hair and pulling him away. "Thomas-"

Thomas turned and looked Charles up and down. "You're out of bed, at least..." Thomas moved, setting out plates and putting the loaf of bread and block of cheese they had bought the day before on the table. He moved gracefully, hands steady even as Charles' own were shaking slightly. It seemed strange for him to be so calm, he must have  _known_ Charles had heard at least some of the conversation. But he simply pulled out a chair and gestured for Charles to sit. 

So, he sat. 

They ate in silence. Charles felt eyes on him and looked up, refusing to keep his head down. He was unashamed when he wanted something. And if that something happened to be on offer? He was even tempted to push himself towards it. Thomas smiled, crooked at sly, when their eyes met. He saw Flint lick his lips and caught himself watching the action. A tension simmered between them as they ate and Charles nearly jumped when a foot touched his own briefly. 

When the bread was half gone and the cheese following a similar path, they pushed their plates away and James cleared them from the table. Thomas looked over his shoulder and watched as James bent to pick up an errant scrap from the floor. His pants, as usual, clung to his backside like a second skin and Charles felt another sudden need to  _touch_. 

Thomas spoke up suddenly, his hand on the table in front of him as he idly drew patterns on the grain of the wood with a fingertip. "Would you object," he said softly, "if I were to kiss you?" Flint turned slowly, eyes landing on Charles with a curious glint in the gaze, as though the words were formed in his mind and spoken through Thomas' lips. 

Charles shook his head. 

He found himself unable to move as Thomas stood, as he rounded the table and tilted his head, examining Charles' features and reached one hand out to brush a lock of hair from his face. He leaned down and Charles' pulse thrummed so hard he thought it would be audible to the man moving towards him. 

Soft lips brushed against his own, softer breath washing over his mouth as a sigh came from Thomas' throat. His eyes fluttered and Charles tilted his head to the side, letting Thomas kiss him again, harder, more insistent. Thomas kissed him properly that time, one hand cupping the sharp edge of Vane's jaw as he moved their mouths gently together. It was, by far, the kindest kiss anyone had given him since he had been a boy visiting a brothel for the first time. Unconsciously he leaned into the man and parted his lips, tasting Thomas' tongue as a moan reverberated through his chest. 

"Do you want me?" Thomas whispered against his lips, eyes blown almost black with lust and Charles almost moaned again. How long had it been since someone  _wanted_ him to want them? How long since he'd fucked someone who chose him and not the other way around? He nodded, a hand reaching to run up the length of Thomas' side. "Then have me."

Charles looked to the side and caught Flint's gaze. James was watching them, his expression open and admiring. He nodded and Charles felt the tightness in his chest ease slightly. It was permission. So, with that, he stood and kissed Thomas with every ounce of lust he felt. He kissed him until they were breathless, until Thomas was moaning against him, hands clutching at one another in near desperation. 

And Charles  _felt_ desperate. He felt his cock aching between his thighs and the answering hardness in Thomas' pants, felt the clawing need to taste and touch and fuck until he couldn't move. As Thomas pushed him backward, took his hand and lead him to the bedroom, he thought the former lord felt the same way. 

He heard footsteps follow behind them and shivered with the knowledge that Flint would be there. Flint would be  _watching_ them. He'd be watching his tenuous ally fuck his lover. It sent a heady rush of power to his head and made his cock throb. He  _wanted_ that. Even as Thomas pushed him to the bed, straddled him and pushed the material of his pants down to his hips, he thought of Flint in the corner of the room watching them. When Thomas took his own clothes off and sat in his lap Charles ran hungry hands up and down his body. 

"You're fucking beautiful," he whispered, leaning up to catch a nipple between his teeth and sucked hard. Thomas gasped, tangling his fingers in Charles' hair. 

"Fuck me," Thomas moaned. He took one of Charles' hands and brought it to his backside, and Charles didn't hesitate when he felt wetness there. He pushed two fingers in, moaning himself as he felt the slick heat of Thomas' ass, already stretched. "We fucked this morning, while you were still sleeping. I'm ready, just-  _please_ I want-"

The words broke into a ragged moan as Charles took his fingers out and pushed his cock in. He grunted with the sudden onslaught of sensation, thrust his hips up into Thomas' backside in short movements as he tried to get a hold of himself. 

" _Fuck_ ," Thomas tugged at his hair, tilting his head back to latch onto his throat. He bit down and Charles moaned, thrusting up faster and gripping at Thomas' hips to lift him up and slam him back down. "Yes," Thomas started moving with abandon, "yes that-  _yes!"_

As Thomas rode him, Charles let his hands roam over the pale skin of his thighs and chest. He pinched at the man's nipples, moved his hands down to grip his ass and squeeze, reveling in the harsh shout that left Thomas' lips. 

He was  _beautiful_ , eyes screwed shut, head tilted back to show the long curve of his neck and his  _voice_ \- it was like he was calling out in prayer, strong and unbroken. Charles wrapped an arm around Thomas' waist and flipped them, moving to quickly push his cock back into Thomas when the man was on his back. He thrust hard, fast, pounding into Thomas as though it was the only thing his body  _could_ do at that point. Pleasure rushed up his spine, tingled in his fingers and he reached between them to tug at Thomas' cock, marveling at the long length of it, the way it felt in his hand. 

He'd never touched a man's cock before. None other than his own, at least. 

Thomas arched his back and shouted, cock twitching as he came over Charles' fist. Charles groaned against the way Thomas' body tightened, feeling his own orgasm rush towards him and he leaned down to kiss Thomas as that pleasure washed over him. He came with a long moan that spilled down Thomas' throat. Hands clawed at his back, tugging him closer as they rocked together in the aftermath. 

He opened his eyes a moment later, meeting Thomas' mirth-filled gaze and smiling despite himself. They laughed softly together, frissons of pleasure moving over his skin as he pulled out. Thomas moaned, smiling up at him, and stretched himself out like a cat basking in sunlight. Charles sat up, turning to look over his shoulder. 

Flint moved towards the bed and reached out, touching the come on Charles' abs. He wiped a finger through the mess and lifted it to his lips, sucking it from his finger and Charles was helpless to the lust that filled him at that action. His cock throbbed weakly between his thighs even as he reached up to tug on Flint's shirt. 

When Thomas kissed him it had been soft, a tentative exploration. When  _Flint_ kissed him it was with a wildness that reminded him of Eleanor. He kissed with teeth, tongue, biting and sucking until Charles was all but helpless in his capable hands. 

But Charles was nothing if not adaptable. 

He kissed back, tugged at Flint's pants until he got the man's cock out and drank the moan that spilled from his lips. He tugged on Flint's cock, spread the precome that leaked from the head to ease the way, tightened his grip when Flint's breath got faster. A rush of power, of being able to reduce  _Captain Flint_ to gasps and shudders, came over him. He parted his thighs and let Flint stand between them, felt the man's hands on his shoulders and looked up. Flint was blushing, his cheeks a pretty shade of pink, and Charles reached up with one hand to draw him down, to kiss him again. He felt James shudder against him again and then the splash of wet warmth on his chest. 

Flint made no sound as he came. His breath stopped, his hands gripping hard enough to bruise on Charles' shoulders, then he sagged. 

Thomas drew them both to the bed, using his own discarded shirt to wipe any mess away. They would have to wash later, he was sure of it, but Charles' ignored that in favour of feeling two warm bodies close to him. He let the comfort of that heat make him doze, Thomas and Flint holding hands over the skin of his stomach. 

\---

An hour, maybe two, passed and Charles emerged from his half-sleeping state to the sound of silence. The bed was empty. He got up, slipped into his trousers and made his way to the kitchen again. 

Thomas was reading something, a cup of tea held delicately in one hand. He looked up when Charles entered the room and smiled, bright and disarming in a way Charles was beginning to suspect was affecting him more than he'd imagined. He sat at the table nearby. 

"James is in the garden again," Thomas said softly. He touched Charles' calf with one bare foot and smiled again. "He is a little... overwhelmed. But he likes you, more than he lets on I suppose. That's his way, now. To be quiet about who he desires... I suppose that's why he didn't love anyone but Miranda after they arrived here;" he looked about the room and sighed. "He has a great capacity for love. I only hope he lets himself feel it again."

"And you think he'd feel that for me?" Charles frowned, puzzled at the idea. "After the shit we've done to each other?"

"Precisely."

Charles laughed and leaned back in the chair, letting Thomas' foot move further up his calf. "I guess you know him better than I do..."

Thomas smiled, putting the book down and leaning forward. "Not as well as I once did but yes, I suppose I do. Though I think he'd like it if you knew him well, too."

When James came back inside he looked refreshed. His skin was pink, eyes clear and bright, and he greeted them both with a soft smile. He kissed Thomas slowly. When he turned to Vane he waited, raising an eyebrow in question, and then moved forward into his space. Charles paused, leaning in slowly to press their lips together in a kiss. James hummed and leaned into him.

It was a start, Charles thought. A good start.  


End file.
